


i had to kill you (i'm really sorry)

by niproci



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Cat and Mouse, Government Conspiracy, Lots of violence and murder, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Raven Neil essentially, inspired by Killing Eve, like a lot, neil is...not a very good person tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niproci/pseuds/niproci
Summary: When CIA agent Andrew Minyard refuses to stop following the trail of a reclusive assassin, it costs him his job and draws the attention of the assassin himself.





	i had to kill you (i'm really sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes. This is inspired by Killing Eve (both the brilliant tv series and the novellas it was based on) because I could not stop thinking about how it could make an interesting/twisted tfc fic so I wrote it. 
> 
> Neil it like, not a good person and will probably be a little bit more than out of character.
> 
> Chapter title comes from Sympathy For The Devil by The Rolling Stones because subtlety is my greatest asset

 

 

 

 

One

Please allow me to introduce myself

 

Neil stood in front of the floor length mirror in his lavish room in Bath, England.

He blinked once, twice, and watched as the colored contacts shifted to place in his eyes, the orange color of the contacts iris mixing with his own natural blue to form a muddy brown color that perfectly matched his muddy brown hair dye.

He ran a hand through his hair, surprised at how long it had gotten. His hair, wavy by nature, hung down almost to his shoulders. He took a few steps backwards, grabbing an elastic tie from the nearest table, and slipped it over his hand before returning to the mirror and pulling his hair back into a loosely formed bun.

Just enough to keep it out of his face.

The balcony doors were wide open, the cacophony of the street below providing an interesting soundtrack to Neil’s preparations. Neil had never liked music, it was a complication, and, worst of all, it was loud.

Neil, by nature, and nurture, had always preferred silence.

Music sometimes provided a distraction, a raucous guitar to cover up the reverberation of a pistol, or a thumping electric beat to drown of the scream of someone begging for their life. Music was fine as an accessory, but not much else.

Neil preferred the sound of people, to listen to them while they walked, oblivious to the other ears around them. You could learn much about a person by listening to a private conversation. Most people were stupid, ill-informed, and assumed that the person next to them on the sidewalk wasn’t listening to their conversation.

Conversation, Neil had come to learn, was his biggest asset.

Neil stripped out of his clothes, letting his loose-fitting shirt and sweats fall to the side as he strolled across the room to the bed. He ran his hand over the fabric of the clothes he’d laid out moments earlier, the rough pads of his fingers scraping against the fine denim of the Alexander McQueen jeans he’d plucked out of the department store earlier in the week.

He slid the jeans out, shaking out his legs as the tight denim molded itself to his tones legs, and pulled on a basic white shirt before grabbing the Tom Ford trench coat off the back of the desk chair near the bed.

The coat was solid, black wool and nylon fabric with a sheep with a sheered sheep wool inner trim. Neil shrugged the coat on and found himself greeted by surprising warmth. He hadn’t realized how cold the room had gotten since he’d opened the balcony doors.

The coat itself fit him well, slim and taped at the waist so that it sat perfectly upon his shoulders when it was buttoned. The overlarge buttons of the front made it easy to undo quickly, and the deep side pockets were perfect for concealing things without giving off an obvious shape.

Neil reached into the pocket and pulled out a sleek, platinum ballpoint pen. Neil twisted the pen between his fingers, his head turning with it as it glinted under the lights of his hotel suite. He rolled the pen over the top of his hand before releasing it, watching as it fell slowly towards the plush carpet of the floor.

Neil caught it just before it hit the ground, sliding it back into his pocket before tightening his coat around his waist.

He closed the windows that lead outside, locking them with the latch and then securing them again with a heavy twine from his suitcase. He grabbed his boots from the floor, stretching out his body as he leaned over to grab them, and slipped into them before tightening and redoing the laces.

Neil gave himself one last lookover in the mirror before grabbing his glasses off the small table next to them. He paused just before leaving the room, walking back over to the mirror and inspecting his hair again. He pulled at it, dislodging a few strands on either side of his face from the elastic band and brushing them forward with his hand until they framed his face perfectly. With one last satisfied smile, Neil turned from the mirror and left the hotel suite.

The squat heels of his boots echoed on the marble floor of the hallway as he made his way towards the elevator. He pushed the button and waited a few seconds as the elevator made the ascent to the top floor of the building to pick him up.

The ride down to the lobby was quick, Neil having punched in an emergency code that prevented the elevator from stopping for other passengers. It let him out at the top of a grand staircase, a fact that Neil noted was rather stupid upon his check in. His boots thumped against the carpet of the staircase, and he quickly made his was to the grand lobby of the hotel.

It was early morning, just before 9am, and the lobby was almost devoid of people save for the ones who worked there. Neil tipped his head in greeting to a few staff members and moved around them to make it to the exit.

“Mister Masson!” Neil stopped at the sound of a lovely voice to his right-hand side, “Good morning!”

Neil paused for a brief second before turning with a bright smile. The girl to the desk at his right, Sophia, had checked him in. Neil had initially been put off by her large smile but used her obvious interest in him to secure an upgraded room on the top floor.

“Good morning.” Neil replied in a thick, unmistakable French accent.

To the staff of the hotel, and everyone in England at the moment, Neil was Leandre Masson. Leandre Masson was a French antique dealer in the country to price new inventory in his store.

“Any exciting plans for today?” Sophia asked.

“Taking the train over to Cardiff to meet a client.” Neil replied, his thick accent still unmistakable. Cardiff was the exact opposite direction of where Neil was heading, but Sophia didn’t need to know that.

“Cardiff is lovely this time a year! I hope you have a wonderful day!” Sophia smiled, her eyes scanning him up and down.

“Au revoir.”  Neil replied with a grin and a tip of his head, leaving Sophia flustered in his wake.

Neil did not like the attention, but he would use it to get what he wanted. Playing into someone’s obvious desire was occasionally part of the job, but Neil often looked for other ways to go about things before having to resort to that route. Flirting with a bartender of a security guard was one thing but fucking someone just so you could slide their throat when they were unguarded was another.

Neil preferred not to deal in such crass matters.

Neil made his way to the train station and purchased a round trip ticket from Bath to Reading, Berkshire. The train loaded quickly, and Neil took a seat near the front. He flashed the attendant his ticket as they made their rounds and stared at the exit door behind his sunglasses until the train pulled into the station in Reading.

He politely let a few older women out before him when the doors opened. After, he made his way to the street to hail the next cab that was available. He handed the first cab driver that stopped a stack of cash and told them to drive to London.

The drive was quiet, the driver didn’t speak, and Neil didn’t initiate conversation. A little over half an hour later, Neil was let out onto the streets of London just outside of Hyde Park. The cab turned in the street and headed back towards Reading as Neil walked down the side of the road. He paused at the intersection, checking his watch and smiling, he’d made it to London with time to spare.

The restaurant he’d surveyed a week ago was just down the block. It was the only one in the area with a private accessible bathroom and a back-alley entrance that would let him out the next block over. The women’s bathroom was empty when Neil knocked on the door, so he slipped inside, locking it behind him and shrugging the coat off his shoulders.

Neil sat the glasses on the edge of the sink before reaching up and undoing his hair. It quickly fell to his shoulders in a tangle of messy curls, so Neil shook his head once, twice, until it settled back into somewhat of a normal position. Neil pulled his bangs forward and let them fall over one of his eyes before he removed the pen from the pocket of the coat and set it onto the counter next to the glasses.

He reversed the coat so the sheep wool lining was now on the outside, making the coat appear larger than it was. It was grander, something a more ostentatious woman would wear. He hung the coat on the back of the door before hiking one foot up onto the toilet seat. He rolled up the cuff of one pant leg, then the other, revealing the flashy checkered print that was plastered on the inside of the pants.

It also revealed a bit of his legs, smooth, tan, and sleek.

Neil grabbed the glasses, punching out their clear lenses and replacing them with dark, polarized ones that hid enough of his face to be satisfactory. The tube of red lipstick Neil had placed in a plastic bag and taped onto the back of the toilet earlier in the week was still there, so Neil quickly painted his lips before pulling the newly reversed coat back on. He pulled the tin black belt from his pants and placed it around the waist of the coat, tying it together and giving him just enough of an hourglass frame to be believable.

Neil put the sunglasses on and looked at himself in the mirror. He wouldn’t pass as a female from too close, But Neil didn’t plan to be close to anyone for more than a few seconds. Besides, the disguise was more for the CCTV cameras than it was for anyone else.

There weren’t many opportunities for Neil to get close to this target, he’d only have one shot and he knew the target well enough to know that he’d underestimate a well-dressed woman who was walking his way, especially when he was already distracted by the one hanging onto his shoulder and dripping with jewels.

Neil excited the bathroom, and then out the rear door of the pub, and into the back alley. There were no cameras in the pub, hidden or otherwise, and the only CCTV cameras were a few feet down from the alley. The police could eventually figure out where he came from by going over the footage a few dozen times, but Neil would be long gone by then.

A couple hundred feet down the sidewalk, Neil spotted the target.

Lazlo Dimas was, as his file said, the head of a human trafficking ring. He bought and sold children by the hundreds almost daily, except on Sundays. Sundays was when he took his girlfriend, and that term only loosely applied, out shopping.

His girlfriend was previously known as one of his victims. Lazlo took one look at her and fell in love, decided no one could have her, and pumped her full of drugs while buying her shiny things to keep her eyes on.

Neil had been observing him for the last two weeks, Sunday was the only day he was alone, and it was only for a short amount of time. Neil had to make his move now or risk losing Lazlo as he jetted off to another city.

Lazlo walked slowly, his arm and iron grip around the girls’ waist as he whispered sweet nothing in her ear. The girls’ eyes were glazed over, focused on nothing but the glittering strand of diamonds wrapped around her wrist.

Neil reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around the silver pen, pulling it out halfway and pressing a button on the side of the cap. With a satisfying _snick_ , a thin, needlelike blade popped out from the tip of the pen. Neil adjusted his position as Lazlo got closer, withdrawing the pen only moments before they collided on the sidewalk.

Lazlo stumbled the second their bodies made contact, and Neil leaned in, sliding the blade into Lazlo’s femoral artery. Blood quickly began to spread on the front of Lazlo’s dark pants as Neil withdrew the blade, but he kept moving as Lazlo fell to the ground behind him.

A few seconds later, the girlfriend screamed. It had no doubt taken a few extra seconds for her drug addled mind to process what had just happened, but Lazlo was dead and on the ground by then.

Neil circled around the block and into the opposite end of the alley that led to the pub, inside the back door, and into the men’s bathroom this time. He reversed his outfit, tied his hair up once more, cleaned the lipstick off his face, and replaced the lenses in his glasses before exciting the bathroom, the pub, and boarding a train to Reading, and a cab back to Bath.

 

Later

 

Neil leaned against the wall of the shower as the hot water scaled his body. He traced the smile on his lips with his finger as he replayed the moment that Lazlo realized what was happening repeatedly. He didn’t get to see Lazlo die, to watch the light drain from his eyes, but he supposed seeing Lazlo realize he was about to die it would have to be good enough.

He got out of the shower and walked over to the laptop on the small desk in the room. He’d left the towel hanging on the wall, so Neil left wet footprints on the plus carpet as he walked. He opened the laptop, heedless of the droplets of water that fell into the body of the computer as he typed on the think keyboard and pulled up Lazlo’s file.

He dragged it to the recycling bin, deleted it, and then pulled a large magnet out of the drawer of the desk. He closed the laptop and ran the magnet over it, once on top and three times on the back, to destroy the hard drive.

Neil fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, picturing Lazlo’s face of death once last time before opening his eyes and staring at the times of the ceiling.

The truth of the matter was that as terrible as Lazlo was, it wasn’t the reason Neil killed him. Neil did not kill Lazlo because he abducted and fucked children. Neil did not kill Lazlo because he murdered mothers and stole their newborn babies.

Neil killed Lazlo because he was told to. Neil was indiscriminate in who he killed, because he had no choice in the matter. Neil had killed murders and rapists, but Neil had also killed loving mothers and politicians who were trying to change their country for the better.

Neil killed because he was told to.

Neil killed because years ago, a group of people had recognized his talent. They’d recognized that he was not like other people, they had understood that, just as Neil always had, that he was different. They had recognized his talent, sought him out, and taken him from the lowest place possible to the highest place he could ever imagine.

A place where he belonged.

They knew Neil was a predator, an instrument of evolution, one of the elite to whom no moral law applied.

Inside him, this knowledge bloomed like a great dark rose, filling every cavity of his being.


End file.
